


Unfortunate

by KatenissEverdeen



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, But not quite not a ship fic, M/M, Not quite a ship fic, Or at least vivisection imagery, Size Kink, Vivisection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatenissEverdeen/pseuds/KatenissEverdeen
Summary: Hannibal wants to know if Newt has anything kaiju-related in his body, and he's willing to find out by any means necessary.Newt reacts in the worst way possible.





	Unfortunate

It was probably a beautiful night in Hong Kong, but Newt Geiszler wouldn’t know that, since he was strapped to an operating table like he was in some ridiculous movie. He had almost lost it laughing, even if he was scared out of his mind. The room he was in was small, hot, and brightly lit.After someone had taken him off the street, patted him down, taken his phone and wallet, yanked off his clothes, and left him covered only by a thin sheet, he was alone. That plus the scent of disinfectant (and how great was it that he could still smell it, that it hadn’t just become a kind of background noise in his life) had convinced him that this was some kind of underground surgery center. 

They were probably going to take his kidneys, brain, heart, and eyes. Those were the most valuable, and he almost felt his organs throb like they knew they were about to be removed from their comfortable home in his body. He felt another organ throb suddenly, and paused a moment at that. Yeah, he had always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and yeah, he knew it was a lot to ask of his limbic system to know the difference between “strapped to a table and about to die” and “strapped to a bed feeling like you’re about to die” but still. Still! It was a bad time, quite possibly the worst time ever to have a boner, and he tried to think of things to calm himself down. Cleaning bathrooms and Saturday morning cartoons and old folks homes. He tilted his head back and tested the straps keeping him tied to the table and prayed that whoever came into the room next spoke a little English, because he had like 12 different jokes about the situation that wouldn’t be fully appreciated if he had to translate them at the last minute. 

He peeked back down and was relieved to see that the sheet was decently flat. With that out of the way, the situation he was in was starting to set in. He was most likely going to die. He had saved humanity, and he hadn’t even had a chance to leave the damn city he had done it in before he was killed. He lived in a world where giant forces of nature had torn apart entire cities, and he had spent so much of his life studying them. He had drifted with them, had seen one face-to-face, and he had survived all of that only to die a matter of months later. That was kind of funny.

The door opened and Hannibal Chau strode in, there was no other word for it. It was too confident to be a walk. Newt was less surprised than terrified. There was a long, slow, almost painfully tense moment. Newt felt that it was the kind of tension you could only experience after someone tried to kill you, gave you a kaiju brain, supposedly died in front of you without actually dying, and now had you tied up naked with the probability of losing a few organs you were emotionally attached to. It was a completely unique experience. He tried to say everything he wanted, but it all came out in a panicked jumble. 

“Hey, cool, you’re alive! Now that you’re alive, I want to live, too. I mean, please don’t kill me. I mean--” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, which managed to shut Newt up. He pressed a thumb into Newt’s upper arm, and he realized that it was a silent acknowledgement of his tattoos. Hannibal said nothing about them, however, which made Newt wonder--had he been watched? How long had Hannibal trailed him, waiting to make his move?

“Please don’t kill me? Is that really the best thing you could think of?” he asked, leaning over Newt slightly. Looming was the right word. Newt tilted his chin up a little, trying to tough it out. At this point, what did he have to lose?

“Yeah, I have a ton of lectures coming up, where I can talk about how I, you know, kinda saved the world. They’ll notice if I’ve gone missing.”

“Will they?” Hannibal asked, in that gravelly voice, and not for the first time, Newt noticed the size difference between the two of them. In an ideal world, where he wasn’t tied down and maybe had a pair of pants on or something, where there were no guards, he could make a run for it and it would still mean nothing. Hannibal could pick him up and take him back easily. He wouldn’t even break a sweat. 

“I don’t think they will. I think that you’ll disappear, and it’ll take them a long-ass time to notice. Or maybe,” he said, his voice so low it was practically in the Marianas Trench, “Maybe they’ll notice you’re gone sooner. Maybe they’ll keep quiet about it because you’re an annoying little asshole who doesn't know when to keep his damn mouth shut.” At this, he grinned lopsidedly, his gold teeth glittering in the bright lights, looking like he both could and would bite Newt’s throat out if he didn’t learn when to keep his damn mouth shut.

Newt suddenly realized that his problem from earlier was returning. Oh fuck, not now, just keep him talking and think about unsexy things. Even if he was about to die, he wanted some dignity at the end.

“They will notice I’m gone, and they’ll come after you, because you’re the most obvious suspect ever, and--” he started to wriggle a little, hoping the issue would be less obvious with some strategic positioning-- “And that’ll really mess you up, right? You’re probably less powerful now because you have less kaiju parts coming in, and everyone thinks you’re dead, so there’s a power vacuum, and--” 

He was interrupted by Hannibal’s hand slamming down on his bare chest, and okay, wow, it was practically the size of his head. He held him down so effortlessly, the issue was not going away. Newt bit the inside of his cheek and tried to will himself flaccid. 

“All I need is whatever the kaiju left behind in here,” he drawled, tapping a finger on Newt’s forehead. 

“And if they didn’t? Leave anything behind, I mean?”

“Well then. Can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”

Newt gulped, honest to god gulped, and tried to focus on the realities. Hannibal Chau was going to kill him to see if the kaiju had done anything to Newt, which they hadn’t. He’d have known by now, of course he had run every medical test possible on himself. X-rays and blood tests and cheek swabs for silicone and ammonia and anything he had ever found in a kaiju. Chau was a smart guy, he had to know this, and and and. 

This was the part where Newt realized he was speaking out loud, almost babbling, like Hermann always said he had. He screwed his mouth shut just as Chau found a scalpel that looked decently clean, not that it was about to matter. He was about to get dissected--no, fucking vivisected, and Hannibal was going to spread him open like Newt had spread open so many kaiju before. His organs laid out neatly and labeled and eyes staring blankly into space, steady hands masterfully separating bones and flesh and organs and… and there it was again, some awful fucked-up part of him that found the thought kind of hot. 

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” Hannibal muttered as he pulled the sheet back, and--

Newt’s penis lay hard against his stomach. It was completely clear what was going on. The sheer reality of the moment lay between the two men like a loaded gun, like a cold and painful truth neither of them could look away from or deny. Newt was about to die. He was also hard as diamonds.

Hannibal quietly, almost subtly, laid the sheet back across him, put the scalpel down, and walked to the door. He leaned out, said something rapidly in Cantonese, and came back to the table, methodically freeing Newt’s wrists and ankles.

“I’m getting your clothes. You’re free to go. And by ‘free’, I mean ‘required.’”

Newt was, for once in his life, speechless. He opened his mouth to try and say something--a thank you, an apology, something, anything--but Hannibal stopped him.

“Fuck the omelette. This isn’t worth it.”

With that, he turned and left.

A strong, scary-looking woman threw Newt’s clothes in at him, and he shoved them on, trying to strategically angle his body away from her before she led him outside.

He found a little 24-7 store, a quiet place with an empty bathroom, took a few minutes, then walked off into the night, knowing things about himself he never needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Coranam, for again being the most encouraging beta reader ever, and for supporting me when I said I was writing this ridiculous thing.


End file.
